Toby Neighbors: Crying Havoc

“You are both being too hard on yourselves,” Quinn said. “The thing to remember is that Kelvich lived a good life, and we were a part of making it a good life. He was a grown man, who lived longer than most men can dream of, and he was one of the wisest people I’ve ever met. You don’t have to act like his passing isn’t a tragedy, but you mustn’t take on the blame. Remember him for the man he was, not the unfortunate way he died.”

Zollin and Mansel pondered this for a moment. And then Zollin turned to eunuch. The timid servant was sitting in one of the thickly padded chairs and sipping his wine, obviously grateful to be alive.

“And now it’s time to finish this,” said Zollin to the eunuch. “And you, my friend, are going to help me.”

* * *

The next morning, as the four men were preparing to leave, King Felix arrived and asked to see them. He was bleary-eyed, but alert. It was early morning, and most of the city was still sleeping off the excesses of the night before. Their celebrations had lasted long into the night, but Quinn and Mansel had stayed busy preparing their supplies for the journey ahead while Zollin questioned the eunuch. It was difficult to communicate, since the servant had no tongue to speak with and could not read or write. They had to use hand signals, but the eunuch was able to tell Zollin how many servants there were at the Torr and how many other magic users. It wasn’t the most valuable intelligence, but it was better than nothing. The man, whom Zollin had named Eustace, was willing to travel with them and help them in their quest to defeat the Master of the Torr.

King Felix found them in the stables. He was hurrying to catch up with them before they left.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “We missed you at the feast last night.”

“I’m sure you did,” Zollin replied. “But we didn’t feel like celebrating. Orrock is safe for the moment, but the Master of Torr escaped. It’s only a matter of time before he comes after me again.”

“And we shall defeat him again if he does,” said King Felix. “There is no need to run and hide.”

Zollin spun on his heel, and Mansel drew his sword.

“Boys!” Quinn said loudly. “Don’t do anything rash. Mansel, put that sword away.”

“We aren’t running away,” Zollin said. “We’re going to finish what we started.”

“What do you mean?” King Felix asked.

“I mean we’re going to stop the Torr from ever coming after me again.”

“What about my son?” the King said. “Where is he?”

“He’s alive and well, Sire,” Quinn said. “But he’s under the spell of a witch in Lodenhime.”

“And you three are going to free him?”

“Not me,” said Quinn. “I’m retiring.”

“We will go to Lodenhime after we deal with the Master of the Torr.”

“But what if something happens to Prince Wilam?”

“You have an entire army,” Zollin said. “Send someone else to rescue the Prince.”

“You are refusing me?” the King said angrily. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you rooms in my castle. Everything in this kingdom is yours if you need it.”

“I know you think of everything in this kingdom as your own personal possession,” Zollin said angrily, “including the people who live here. But we are not your slaves. I have not forgotten the drugs you put in my food or your intentions to hand me over to the Torr.”

“You volunteered to go,” said King Felix.

“Are you mad? I offered to go and you counseled against it. If you thought I was truly willing to go, why did you drug me?”

“I only did that at the urging of my generals. They thought you might change your mind.”

“You are a liar,” Zollin spat. “You do not deserve to wear that crown. You are no different than Simmeron.”

“You overstep your bounds, wizard!” King Felix said angrily.

“And you yours. We are leaving,” Zollin said as he climbed onto his horse. “Step aside.”

“If you leave, you shall never be welcome in this city again.”

“Goodbye, Your Highness,” Zollin said sarcastically.

They rode out of the stable and out of the castle courtyard.

“Well, that was awkward,” Mansel said.

“He’s a pompous fool,” Zollin said.

They rode through the city, and their horses’ hooves clipping and clopping on the cobblestones was the only sound. At the city gate, which was now guarded by an entire century of soldiers, they passed out of the city and reined up their horses.

“So what’s your plan?” Quinn asked.

“We ride south,” Zollin said. “I guess we’ll retrace your route to Osla.”

“Well, be careful. When this is all over I expect to see you in Felson,” Quinn said. “Goodbye, Mansel. I hope you find happiness.”

“And you as well, Quinn,” Mansel said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been better than a father to me. I’m sorry again for the pain I’ve caused you and your family.”

“I have no regrets,” Quinn said, smiling. “You’re a good man. Never forget that.”

They embraced, and then Quinn turned to Zollin.

“I love you,” he said.

Zollin smiled. “I know, dad, I love you, too.”

They shared one last embrace, and then they turned their horses and went their separate ways. Zollin led Lilly, laden with their supplies. Eustace the eunuch and Mansel followed him. Quinn followed the Weaver’s Road east, toward Felson.

* * *

Far to the south, Offendorl was being rowed out to a ship. Bartoom the dragon had carried him to the coast and then stayed with him through the night. Offendorl had sent the beast away to wait for him in the Walheta mountains while Offendorl booked passage south on a trade ship. He had been forced to pawn part of his golden crown in order to pay for his passage and buy supplies.

The old wizard was physically spent. His abdomen was swollen from the internal bleeding, which the wizard had healed, but he had not had time to clear all the old blood and bile from his body. He needed time to rest and mend, which Offendorl planned to get during his journey on the ship.

He also needed time to think. Offendorl was angry at himself. Nothing about the invasion had gone the way he expected, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow lost touch with reality. The power Zollin possessed was not as great as his own, but perhaps he had come to rely too much on knowledge. His vast intellect had not helped him in his battle with a younger, faster opponent. Offendorl knew he needed to hone his skills and build his strength if he was to face Zollin again. And that prospect was all he could think of. He was not giving up, now that time and distance had eased the fear that had driven him away from Orrock. He was the Master of the Torr, he thought reassuringly, and he wouldn’t stop until all the magical power in the Five Kingdoms was his, including Zollin’s. He would bring the boy under his control, or see him dead.

Brianna had been working for days, perhaps weeks; she wasn’t sure. She was neither hungry nor tired. She was focused on one thing only, the task at hand. Her fire had burned through the mountain, straight down into the deliciously warm bowels of the earth. And there she had begun to create life. It was not a child, not a human or even a Fire Spirit baby. She was giving life to her own kind, to dragonkind.

She heated the stone until it was more fire than rock. She formed the dragon’s shape, from its horned crown to the tip of its tail. She labored over every detail, lovingly working and shaping the molten ore until it glowed with heat, which was life to her kind.

Finally, she had to give the dragon the spark of life. It was not an easy task, and she could not explain how she knew what to do. She breathed fire onto and into her offspring. Over and over again she breathed life into the beast. She felt it coming to life, felt its awareness growing. The beast was almost alive. All that it needed now was gold and a name: then the dragon would live, and they could leave the mountains together. She knew that the time for her kind to rise was coming, the time when dragons would sway the balance of power in the world. She had to be ready. Zollin would be waiting for her, and she refused to let him down.